You ever have certain words pop into your head and you’re like, I have to do a poem out of that one word? “Demurred” was the word recently for me. Here is the seven-line poem (two more than usual for this one!) I whipped up tonight about it.
Death Demurred
fitting that it sat in a rocker on an aging porch,
patience was the air it breathed, knowing
we all come to the steps schlepping our regrets
to drop at its robes; it’d lean forward, creaking,
“You won’t need that. Sit, please.”
To me, it said nothing, but smiled, happy
i didn’t push to see it sooner.
Milam's Musings 